The End of the Fall
by NCCJFAN
Summary: POST JUMP, PUSH, FALL. Far too much has happened for them to get back together quickly and easily. My take on how it might play out. WJ pairing...all CJ characters involved.
1. Three Months of Falling

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Crossing Jordan. This is just one of the ways I'd like to see "Jump, Push, Fall" work out. **

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Three Months of Falling**

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

Jordan's sneakers made an easy even rhythm as she went for a morning run. Running had always been an outlet for her – a way to shed some of the stress that surrounded her life – much like an overweight person would shed pounds. She could feel the tension roll off her as she would push herself to run another block, another mile…and to sweat it out just a little more.

Only now, her jogs didn't offer the same relief they had in the past. Not now. Not since that morning when the first cop got shot by the sniper.

Not since Woody got shot.

Not since Woody was paralyzed.

Thump, thump, thump. She stopped for a minute to catch her breath…in the exact same spot she and Woody had been in three months ago. When she told him about her blind date, how she was trying to respect his wish for friendship…how she was trying to move on and realized that he had already done so. With women she knew.

That hurt had her. Just like it hurt Woody to think that she would one day tell another man that she loved him. Woody wanted to hear those words…and have those words meant for him.

Jordan sighed as she wiped the sweat from her face and fished around in her pocket for enough change to buy a bottle of water. Woody did hear those words eventually – as he was coming out of surgery…when he thought she said them out of pity…that she really didn't mean them. That she was only saying them to get him to gather the strength to pull himself together, make it through more surgery, and walk again.

He did go through more surgery…but he hadn't taken a step since those moments before he was shot and tried to talk the young sniper into giving up. He was paralyzed from the waist down…no feeling…no movement. And although the doctors had not given up hope yet…the future had been dimmed for the blue-eyed detective from Wisconsin.

She chugged her water and began to jog back to where her El Camino was parked. Today was Saturday. Her day off from the morgue and away from Slokem and his heavy-handed pursuit of justice. And she would spend her time off the same way she did nearly all her free time now – with Woody.

He didn't want her. He didn't want her there taking care of him…working with the physical therapists to try to stimulate the nerves in his legs and spinal cord. But in the end, he had to reluctantly accept her help, because she was all he had left in Boston or anywhere else. His parents were dead and his brother, Cal…well, who knew where Cal was now? His cell phone number was no longer valid and his apartment phone was disconnected.

Jordan was it. She was the only person Woody could rely on to always be there to work with him and take any kind of abuse he dished out.

And she did take abuse.

She tried to frame it with the theories that Woody had always been so active and now he was inactive. He had always been independent. Now he was totally dependent. He had always taken care of her, now she was taking care of him. He had always nurtured and protected….and now he had to be on the receiving end of a great deal of compassion and love.

Love from her that he did not want to acknowledge or believe to be true. He deemed it was affection harvested from pity. Jordan knew better. She had simply quit hiding behind her emotional wall and knew that this was the wake up call for her to let him in. To love and be loved.

Only it was one-sided. She loved Woody….and Woody had turned his emotional taps off. Not that she could really blame him after all the years he spent chasing her and when she finally stood still to let him catch her, he could do nothing about it. For Woody, it was too cruel irony. Too cruel to believe…too much damage to rectify.

He would bark at her to leave…him and the hospital. Don't come back. You're not my "pity girlfriend." Yet she would return. Everyday.

Only to hear the same thing repeated to her through clenched teeth as he struggled to regain some kind of movement in his legs. If she hadn't of loved him so much, she would have retreated into her world of work and her apartment … give up on him and them.

But what she felt for Woody was far too deep…far too real…to just give up because of some angry words. This time she wouldn't run. She wouldn't hide. She'd hang on and ride out the roller coaster. He was worth it.

_He's got to understand_, she thought to herself as she got in her truck to drive home for a quick shower before she went to see him, _that this is real on my part…and I hope and pray that those feelings he once had for me are still there…please, God…just let them still be real. Please …. Let him still love me…_

* * *

"I still don't feel a thing….not a damn thing," Woody nearly yelled at her as she massaged his legs the way the physical therapist had taught her. These actions were supposed to help the nerve endings start firing again…as well as keep some of the muscle-tone his well-built body had.

"You won't get everything back in a day, a week, a month even," said Jordan resisting his efforts to push her away from his legs. "You've got to be patient." She shoved a lock of her hair out of her face that had fallen out of her scrunchie…a result of her strenuous efforts. She had come to the hospital after her shower and the therapist had told her to begin the massage and then he'd be there in a minute to continue the exercises. "I know it's hard…"

"You don't know anything."

She was quiet for a moment. Sometimes she really didn't know what to say or what to do. Sometimes no matter what she did or said, it only made matters worse between them. So silently she still began to work the muscles in his legs, working her way from his feet up to his knees. He would never let her touch any area higher than that, leaving his thighs for the physical therapist to work with

"I'm sure all of this…" she motioned to the exercise equipment, "will pay off soon."

He grunted. It had been three months…and not even a scintilla of feeling had pushed its way through his nerve endings.

"You know I'd massage anything I had to if it would help you," she feebly joked, thinking some PG-13 humor might brighten his outlook.

No. Just a grunt. "That's not likely to ever happen, Jordan," he said harshly. He had fallen into the habit of talking to her in that tone of voice…whether it was because he was trying to push her away and make her feel unwanted…or whether it was only because he himself was in such deep emotional pain, she wasn't sure.

She just knew it hurt….and it was probably a combination of both things…but it was making her feel like the entire ordeal was her fault. If she had been able to work harder and faster to find the killer…if Slokum hadn't pulled her off the cop killings and put her on Macy's debacle….maybe this wouldn't have happened. Woody never said it…but this was what she felt. She swallowed hard and kept rubbing his legs.

"I know," she replied softly, struggling to keep her voice even and the tears out of her eyes. "I know…"


	2. Leave a Message

**Chapter Two**

**Leave a Message**

He was gone.

Just like that, one day she came into the hospital after getting off work and he wasn't there. She entered his room and found a neatly made bed and no sign of Woody.

Words could not begin to describe the panic that ran through her system. She whirled around and ran to the nurses' desk. "Detective Hoyt…room 108…has he been moved? He's not there…"

"Oh, honey…didn't he tell you?" the head nurse responded.

Jordan shook her head no.

"He's been air lifted to Walter Reed in DC. They have a better rehab program than we do…the best in the nation. He's going to be there for several months…hopefully, they'll at least be able to get some feelings back in his legs. We've done all we can do here," the nurse concluded cheerfully…as if she was offering Jordan all the hope in the world.

"When….when did he leave?"

"This morning…about nine. I'm surprised he didn't tell you, with you coming in every night and helping him with his therapy." The nurse looked confused. "I mean… this has been planned for three or four days now."

Jordan turned from the nurses' desk and slowly made her way back to her El Camino…and then back to her apartment. No. He didn't tell her. Not a hint. Not a suggestion.

He didn't say a word.

_Well…he said he didn't believe you…_she thought…_that he didn't believe you really loved him. That he didn't want you hanging around out of pity. Maybe he figured you'd follow him to DC for the same reason – you felt sorry for him. He said it was over between you two, Jordan…that night when you gave back his ring. He said it was over. He wanted to just be friends. _

_And that's what you've said you've wanted for three years. To just be his friend. And now you've got what you wished for…it sucks that it isn't what you really want. What your heart is feeling. But in a way it's your fault…you took too long to make up your mind._

She fought back the tears as she got ready for bed. Maybe it was really over. Maybe he had moved on too far…out of her reach…maybe he had really put her out of his heart. She felt cold and empty as she sat in her bed … as cold and empty as that day after his first surgery when he had jerked his hand from hers and told her he didn't want her any longer.

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head against them….letting the tears come. And when the morning light filtered itself across her apartment…she was still sitting there…the tears had finally cried themselves out, but she felt colder and more alone than ever.

* * *

"_Hey…this is Woody. Leave a message after the beep and I'll get back with you as soon as I can…BEEP."_

It was the third time she had called this week. It was the third time she had gotten a voice mail. It was the third time she had left a message.

It was the third time he didn't call back.

For the first two weeks after he had flown out of Boston, she left him alone….thinking he needed to adjust to his new surroundings, schedule, and doctors. She told herself he needed to concentrate fully on that….and just that for a while.

This week, she decided it was time to make contact. She wanted him to know that there was someone back in Boston that still cared….a great deal…even if he wasn't sure what his feelings were. She had actually thought about asking for a week off from the morgue and flying down to Walter Reed herself, but Slocum said she could have no time off until more progress had been made on Macy's case. It was pressing.

And she had reluctantly agreed Slocum was right. Woody had the best medical attention in the nation. Macy…and whatever the truth was surrounding that case…needed her immediate and complete attention now. "But I'll tell you what," he told her, "if Detective Hoyt's condition changes in any way for the worse, I'll have you one the first plane to DC," he promised.

So, she had called. Woody had ignored her. At least that told her one thing – he had moved on. He truly no longer wanted her.

Now she would have to adjust. Adjust her way of thinking…that he wouldn't always be there for her on at least a friendship level. Adjust her concern … he obviously didn't want her to care. And the most difficult of all, adjust her heart. Try to fall out of love with a man who held hers in the palm of his hand…and no longer wanted it.

She wasn't so sure how successful she was going to be with any of the adjustments. Especially the last one.

It took her time….weeks of it. Weeks of forcing herself to put down her cell phone when she wanted to call him. Weeks of not checking by his apartment to make sure everything was still alright there. Weeks of not asking his fellow detectives if they had heard from the boy-wonder from Wisconsin.

The adjustment took time…but after a couple of months, Jordan had forced her heart into lock-down. She would not allow it to jump at the sound of his name, or when she saw his familiar signature on a file, or smelt his cologne in the department store. Between forcing herself not to react to anything about him any longer, and working her ass off for Slocum, she made a successful transition from want-to-be girlfriend…to nothing at all.

Until one afternoon…she came into the crypt and Nigel and Sydney were there packing up the evidence to the cop killer shooting….and she saw Woody's flak jacket, with the gaping bullet hole and his blood still covering the front. She put out a shaky hand and gently touched it.

And felt the emotions rush back and the tears gather.

She left work without saying a word – and went home and cried her eyes out. She needed him. She needed to see him…touch him…smell him….just make sure he was alright…make sure he was still alive. Tentatively she reached for her cell phone and dialed his number. _'_

_"Hey…this is Woody. Leave a message after the beep and I'll get back with you as soon as I can…BEEP."_

He hadn't changed his mind. He had moved on. He no longer wanted her.


	3. Lovesick

**Chapter Three**

**Lovesick**

She was still as beautiful as he remembered.

Woody watched her from his seat of honor at the Boston Police Department. Jordan was across the room from him…talking with some other detectives at his "Welcome Back to Work" party the homicide department was giving him. He had spent six grueling months at Walter Reed. Six months that had required two additional surgeries and the hardest work he had ever done…rehab.

She had called. Several times. He had never returned them. He wouldn't until he was sure of two things. First, that what she had told him when he had been wounded all those months ago was true…that she did love him. That her emotions for him were real and not rooted in pity. Second, that he would eventually regain full use of the lower half of his body.

He still was unsure of both. The messages she had left on his voice mail were the same. _I miss you, Woody. Why didn't you tell me they were transferring you to DC? Do you know how worried I've been? Anyway…I still meant what I said…what I whispered in your ear when you came out of surgery. I can say those words now…I can tell you what you want to hear because I do mean them. I've felt them for a long time…I just haven't had the guts to tell you. Please….when you get a minute…will you call me and let me know how you are doing? _

And as for the full use of his lower extremities…that judgment call was still out. He had some feeling…some sensation. He had regained that after the swelling went down from his last surgery. For a few days, there was great hope…then no more feeling returned. So while the lower half of him wasn't exactly useless any longer, it was a far cry from back to normal. The doctors at Walter Reed had told him that some people's nerve damage takes longer to heal. Maybe he was one of them. Time would tell.

Meantime, he could go back home to Boston…on crutches…and work with the physical therapists there. At least he was on crutches…and he could return to work. He hoped he could move from crutches to a cane in a few more months.

So now he was home…back in his apartment…back at the Boston PD…and back to where he would see her nearly everyday. He had tried to prepare himself for it…to avoid looking at the hurt in her eyes and the slump of her shoulders when he rejected her. It was for the best, he kept telling himself. He didn't need a woman he could not believe would ever fully commit to a whole man, much less a half of one…and she didn't need a cripple that she would stay with because of guilt and pity.

So he watched as Jordan waited…waited until the room cleared out and she could get a few minutes alone with him. It happened near the end of the party…the cake was nearly gone…the last beers hoisted…the last bawdy joke told among the band of brothers in blue. It was then Jordan caught his eyes and she slowly made her way over to him. "Hi," she said, sounding uneasy and unsure of herself.

_Very unJordan-like_, Woody couldn't help but think. "Hi yourself," he replied.

"It's good to have you home…I've … I've been worried about you."

"There was no need to worry. I've had the best medical attention out there. I was well taken care of."

She nodded. "I know. It's good to see you on those," she motioned towards the crutches.

"It beats the hell out of a wheelchair, that's for sure. But they make your arms incredibly sore."

"I'm sure…do you think if I put some padding…"

"I'm fine, Jordan," he said abruptly. "I don't need you following me around like a mother hen. The physical therapists have taught me how to live independently…and how to deal with the crutches. I don't need your help. I don't need your sympathy. I don't need you or your pity. It's better that we just leave things the way they were. It's been a whole year now. We've both moved on…it's time to just keep moving."

Jordan felt as if he had physically slapped her. He had never couched his rejection of her quite so harshly or with such an edge of bitterness. Still…she was a woman who did love this man…or at least had tried to…She opened her mouth to reply, but found she was too close to tears to make her vocal chords work. She simply nodded and left…walking out the door and back to the morgue.

Woody tried hard not to notice the hurt in her eyes at the last backwards glance she gave him in the doorway or the defeated sag of her shoulders.

In the long run, this would be the best for both of them.

* * *

"Have you finished the autopsy in exam room one?" Dr. Slocum asked Jordan.

Jordan paused to look at him while she was peeling her latex gloves off and throwing them towards the hazardous materials container. "Yeah. It looks like the victim was smothered in her sleep. Hemorrhaging behind the eyes…the typical symptoms."

"So it looks like the boyfriend did it?"

"I don't know. We can't get a fingerprint off the body…and it appears the murderer used a pillow…whose pillow case is now missing. She lived with her boyfriend, so any DNA or fingerprints in the apartment have to be discounted."

"And you've run trace?'

"Yes. But the tox screens haven't come back yet."

"What's the hold up?"

"Back up at the lab."

Slocum sighed and murmured something about the lab's incompetence. Jordan leaned against the counter and closed her eyes. At least the comment hadn't been aimed at her this time. Slocum often complained about her slowness…but never her thoroughness.

Which was why he put her on Garret's case – the one where he had buried evidence to cover up the murder of a reporter by calling it a suicide. And it looked like her thoroughness in that area was going to hit the jackpot. She had found evidence linking Garret's boss to the cover up. And this man had orchestrated the whole thing…Garret had only been following orders and at that time did not have enough seniority at the morgue to make his opinion heard.

So it looked like in a few short weeks her boss may be exonerated and back at work. She smiled. She was looking forward to having him back…she needed him back. She longed for something in her life to return to normal.

"Dr. Cavanaugh.." Slocum called from the door. "If you're through meditating.."

Jordan pushed away from the counter and opened her tired eyes. Slocum was working her to death…never a down moment or day off… or so it seemed. And fortunately, Jordan was at a place where she welcomed the hectic schedule. Since she had seen Woody back at the precinct and he had spoken those few, harsh, brief words to her, she had welcomed the heavy workload to offset the hurt she was feeling in her heart.

Lovesick. That's what she was…Jordan Cavanaugh was lovesick. She nearly laughed at the idea.

But that's exactly what was the matter with her. She had fallen in love, been soundly rejected, and didn't know how to get over Woody and move on. She was far too busy to date…even if she had wanted to.

And it was hard for her to move on when she saw him nearly everyday…his eyes could still bring her to her knees….his smile still melted her heart. But she knew she needed to get on with her life. He obviously had with his. She had seen the way other women reacted to him since word had gotten out that they were no longer an item. On more than one occasion, she noticed Santana had gone with him to work out in the gym…Framus was constantly bringing him lunch or volunteering to take him the places he needed to go.

Not to mention the other women that seemed to constantly go out of their way to assist him. Woody may be on crutches, but he still was a handsome man. He had rebuilt his body after the shooting to the point it was leaner and more muscular than before. That frame, coupled with his blue eyes, and dimpled-little-boy-cherubic smile made him the target for any eligible female around.

Anyone but her, that is.

She had always seen other women try to flirt with him. And she had been secretly thrilled he had never responded as long as he was trying to have some sort of relationship with her.

It now broke her heart all over again to see him nearly encourage them. He had moved on. With people she even knew.

Jordan sighed and followed Slocum into the next exam room. With any luck, she'd have another autopsy to do. It was four in the afternoon now….she could drag the autopsy out a few hours and then stay to complete the paperwork. With a little luck and some procrastination, maybe she'd make it home by midnight…and be so exhausted she'd fall asleep and not dream of him.


	4. Once in a Lifetime

**Chapter Four**

**Once in a Lifetime**

"Gee, it 's good to have you back, Dr. Macy," said Nigel, greeting the chief ME on his first day back after suspension.

"God knows it's good to be back. Never thought I'd miss this place that much… but I did. And I missed the people even more," Garret replied.

"It's just good to get rid of that bastard Slocum," Bug joined in. "He reduced Lily to a file clerk and nearly worked Jordan to death."

"That's for sure," Nigel said. "She looks ragged out…"

"Yeah…but I'm not sure if that's from Slocum or Woody," Garret said, his voice trailing off as he saw Jordan round the corner and head over to him. "Speak of the devil…"

She chuckled as she hugged Garret. "I'll never take for granted looking over in your office and seeing your little, bald head again. Welcome back…and never, ever leave us again like that."

The group moved aside as some workmen moved Garret's old desk with the victrola back in his office. "Seems things are getting back to semi-normal," Jordan said, still keeping her arm around Garret while Nigel and Bug went back into trace.

"Some things anyway," he replied. "What are you doing here? With all the hours Slocum told me you put in on my case, I figured you'd be taking this week off."

"Nah. Not me. I live to work. Just add them to my five years worth of sick days and vacation time."

Garret caught Jordan by the chin and looked at her closely. The dark circles hugging her eyes betrayed her. She was tired. Slocum had admitted to Garret that Jordan had more than pulled her fair share of hours on clearing him, as well as helping the interm director keep all four autopsies up and going. Jordan lowered her eyes at his intense scrutiny.

"Go back home, Jordan. Sleep for a week."

"I can't…I just need to stay busy right now, Garret…at least for a little while longer…until I can put my life in perspective again…discover what is really important and who matters."

"Okay, but only trace for you today and you agree to knock off at three." He released her chin, but kept his hold on her hand.

She nodded and made to leave, but he pulled her into his office after the workmen had left. "Jordan…how are you holding up? I heard Woody was back…on crutches and doing a little better. But how are you holding up? Have things changed any between you two?" Garret was well aware that things were not back to normal between the couple.

"I'm…okay. And no, things have not changed between us. I guess…I'm learning to move on, too."

"Dating?"

Jordan snorted. "Slocum never gave me time to go to the bathroom…much less have anytime to try to do anything else."

"Will you? Get out there and date?"

She dropped down on the couch in Garret's office. "I…I…can't picture myself with anyone else but Woody right now. The thought of going out with another man…I just can't go there yet."

"But you'll try?"

"I don't know. Maybe if God drops a man on my front stoop with a bow around him and a Post-it note on his forehead that says 'This is the one', I might."

Garret chuckled. At least she was keeping her sense of humor. But the look in her eyes made him hurt. And in truth, Bug, Nigel, and even Sydney had told the chief ME how worried they were about Jordan. How crushed she seemed to be by Woody's rejection. "I don't know if I've ever seen her like this," Nigel had told him. "Even with all the stuff she went through with her mother's murder…how she went off the deep end….she was never this….down."

Garret understood what Nigel had meant now that he had seen her up close. Her emotions were right there on her sleeve. "You love him, don't you Jor?"

She nodded, blinking back the tears. "Yeah… I do. And I've told him…you know I told him at the hospital that day… he doesn't believe me. He thinks I'm acting out of pity or sympathy or guilt. But I'm not. The shooting just made me realize that I had loved him for a long time and we're not promised tomorrow. I needed to tell him then. I guess my timing was off…as usual."

Garret smiled softly at her. "I think…that maybe…he was worried about what loving him would do to you."

She gave him a quizzical look.

"I think," he gently explained, "that Woody was afraid that loving him would make you sacrifice too much of yourself … that you'd end up resenting him in the long run because he couldn't be like a 'normal' man."

"But that's not the way I feel."

"I know. But he doesn't know that."

"What would I have to do to make him realize that?"

"That's the thing, Jordan. You can't do anything. He's going to have to realize that himself, and come to terms with the fact that he still loves you."

She swallowed the lump building in her throat. "I don't think he does anymore. He's moved on, Gar. He's dating other women…and they're falling all over him to help him with anything he needs. He won't let me near him."

Garret absorbed this telling fact for a minute. If Woody was pushing her away…he obviously was still confused about his feelings and if he could try to have a relationship with Jordan again…and if this time Jordan would let it be on Woody's terms. If it happened…if they started seeing each other again…Woody would have to be in control…and Jordan would have to trust him enough to let him.

She obviously missed the detective…and her feelings hadn't changed despite the rejection Woody was putting her through. "Don't give up hope yet," Garret said pulling her in for a brief hug. "He's just gotten back from Walter Reed. He and everyone else is still adjusting to him being home. Give it a while. See what happens. Meantime…don't sit home on Friday night if opportunity knocks and asks you out for dinner."

* * *

"Woody…how are you?" Garret asked the young man at the bar.

"Dr. Macy… good to see you, man," Woody greeted the chief ME. "I'm doing better. I've got some feeling back in my legs, but not much. The doctors hope it will get better, but no one knows for sure. Meanwhile I just keep working with the physical therapist and being a detective." He paused and took a pull on his beer. It was Friday night, and Eddie Winslow had talked Woody into going out with him to McPherson's for a few drinks and to watch the game on the big screen television in the bar. "So how are you? I heard you're back and Slocum has gone to crawl back under whatever rock they let him out from."

Garret chuckled and ordered a Scotch, neat. "Yeah. I'm back…albeit on probation for six months. So the Governor's Commission on Crime is going to watch me like a hawk, but I'll be okay."

"I know everyone is glad to have you back."

"It seems so. And it's good to be back. With my morgue family again. They went to the wall for me and I'll never forget it."

"You don't forget people like that…ever."

"So…what about you, Woody? Any more surgery?"

"There's nothing more they can do. It's up to my nerves to make some kind of decision for themselves … and right now they can't make up their mind."

Garret smiled and looked down at his Scotch. He wished he could say that his meeting Woody here was a happy coincidence. But it wasn't. As more days passed after his return to the morgue, the more worried he grew about Jordan. Her work was still superb. But personally, the dark circles ate at him. Her listless attitude concerned him. And the look in her eyes worried him the most. Not only the pain that was there, but also the haunting realization that she may be pining for an irreparable relationship. And she didn't know what to do about it.

So Garret figured he'd try to "run into Woody" at a local bar the cops favored. It had taken him several nights, but he had finally scored success. Garret needed to hear Woody say that it was over between him and Jordan. He needed a look-him-in-the-eyes-man-to-man confession out of the detective. After everything Jordan had done for him, Garret needed to go to the wall for her. Hear Woody's confession and then tell him that Jordan loved still loved him…and it wasn't out of pity.

He owed Jordan that much…after all…Garret was the only pillar left in her life. Max was gone. Woody was proclaiming to have moved on…it was time for Garret to step up to the plate. "Have you made up your mind about Jordan?" he asked Woody…so softly the detective wasn't sure he heard right.

"Jordan? It's over between us. We've both moved on. I mean, we still will have to work together…at least on some level, especially if I get mobile enough to go back out into field work. Right now, I'm mainly behind the desk and doing some interrogation. We can have a working relationship, I'm sure. We're both professional enough to do that. But anything else…no."

"You're sure?"

Woody paused for a moment, the asked in a low, quiet tone, "How is she?"

"How do you think? Hurting like hell. She loves you."

"She thinks she loves me. It's pity, Garret. She waits until I may never walk again and _then_ tells me she loves me. She tells me when I can't do a damned thing about walking…much less keeping her safe…protecting her…making her feel like a woman." The detective's voice lowered on the last part and Garret noticed a faint blush on Woody's cheeks.

"It's not pity. She loves you. It just took nearly losing you to make her realize she needed to tell you before it was too late. And as for the other part, Jordan's pretty good at taking care of herself…and the rest may not be as important as you think."

Woody shook his head. "It is to me…and I'm sure it would be to a woman like Jordan.'

"A woman like Jordan…what do you mean by that?"

Woody blew out a sigh, irritated by the entire conversation. "What do I have to do? Draw you a picture? In time, she would resent me and leave me….or worse. I don't think I could handle that."

Garret set his glass firmly down on the bar…with enough force that it startled Woody. "In all the years you've spent with Jordan, I don't think you ever really knew her. She's not like that. She loves you…and would go to the wall for you just like she did me." Garret threw some money down on the counter. "If that is your final decision…and that's the real reason why you want her to 'move on with her life,'…if it's the fact that you're worried about the sexual part of your relationship, for God's sake, go be completely honest with her. Tell her. Then maybe she really can go on with her life."

Garret pushed away from the bar and tookhalf a dozensteps before turning back to Woody. "But you're a fool, Hoyt. She may have kept you guessing for three years, but she loves you. Completely. And love like that from a woman like her doesn't come along but once in a lifetime."


	5. Progress and Regression

**Chapter Five**

**Progress and Regression**

Progress is sometimes made not in leaps and bounds, but by inches and feet.

That was what Woody was learning during the weeks following his conversation with Garret. He had kept up with his aggressive physical therapy. The fight was long and hard, but the reward was more feeling below his waist. His legs were steadier and he could walk easier…to the point he was rewarded by being able to throw away the crutches and walk with a cane.

It was a slow, but steady walk. He was getting better. He may never be whole, but he was progressing…at least in the walking end of things. Other functions were still not normal…and depending on how and if the nerves repaired themselves, they may never be. He was still half a man – a fact he tried not to dwell on, but every time he saw her, he'd remember – for she was still just as beautiful and her eyes still held a world of hurt. Hurt he knew he had caused.

He didn't see the pain for long, but it was there. He was mobile enough now to go with another detective to homicide scenes where she was the answering ME sometimes. She'd glance at him when he would ask her a question and for a moment…just a second…the hurt would flash in those brown eyes. But she'd quickly mask it and go back to her professional self.

She was trying to make his readjustment to the field as easy as she could. She'd never contradict him on a scene…but she'd never volunteer information, either. She'd answer his questions…that was all.

It was all Jordan could handle…and it's what Garret told her to do. "Woody's a cop…been a cop for years. If he can't think of what questions to ask you, then it's not your fault…it's his. His head's still too far up his ass to see daylight."

And Woody was no fool. He could sense the change in their professional relationship, but didn't know quite how to handle it. Technically Jordan was doing what she was supposed to do. But in the past she had done more….and Woody had grown to expect more. The resentment built until one afternoon, after a murder in a Boston high rise, he couldn't deal with it any longer. He hobbled into her office late one afternoon as quickly as his cane and legs would let him. "What gives?" he asked her, shutting the door behind him. Most of the other staff had gone home, but he was taking no chances that they'd be overheard.

"What?"

"What gives with you on my crime scenes?"

"Have I done anything wrong?"

"No…it's what you're not doing any more, Jordan. You're not….you're not handling the scenes the way you used to….giving me more information than I need."

"All I'm legally required ever to do is give you what you ask for, detective." Her tone was colder than Woody had ever remembered. "And I've done that."

He paused for a moment and held her gaze, looking deep into her brown eyes before glanced away. "This is not about what you're supposed to do on a crime scene, is it Jordan?"

"I think you find all the answers to your questions in my reports, she answered, turning her back to him, getting ready to walk to the door and leave him there.

But his forceful "Stop," caused her to pause and turn back to face him. Pulling himself together and leaning on her desk, he said, "Let's get one thing straight, Jordan. We have to work together. You have to do your job and I have to do mine…and somewhere in the middle, we have to help each other. And you're not doing that…at least the way you used to. And any feelings we used to have for each other shouldn't get in the way of that."

"You know I'm too professional for that."

"I know that you think you still love me. I can see it in your eyes. But it's over between us, Jordan. Done, buried, and we need to move on. I don't want or need any proclamations of love based on sympathy and pity or guilt."

"That's not how I feel and you know it. If my feelings for you would have been based only on that, I would have written you off after you left for DC and didn't tell me where you were going."

"I know that love…or whatever it is that you think you feel for me now, is not going to work. You don't need half of a man, Jordan." He bit the words off and forced them through his teeth.

The look she gave him back plainly told him she didn't understand.

"Look, you're a doctor. Connect the dots. I have a spinal injury…even though I'm getting the feeling back in my legs…that doesn't mean everything is working right. I've never slept with you, Jordan. You never gave me that pleasure…but I have a feeling that you wouldn't be very happy….satisfied…for long with me. And I still care enough about you that I won't do that to you…saddle you with that burden." Woody could feel a faint heat rise to his cheeks at his confession. "I wouldn't put that on any woman."

"How do you know I wouldn't…be happy with you…despite whatever. I love you…I told you that _after_ shooting…_after_ I had been told the extent of your injuries. Doesn't that mean anything to you? I mean, I know my timing sucked, but the shooting made me realize how much you mean to mean…how much I really did care…and how we don't know what's going to happen from one minute to the next. I had to let you know…I had to tell you….I meant every word. And you just blew it and me off."

"That doesn't change a thing. You waited until I could do nothing…nothing about it. I mean earlier, when I offered you the ring…our relationship held all sorts of possibilities. But you refused me then. However, when it was safe…to tell me…."

"Safe? How the hell was your situation safe?"

"Because I couldn't do anything about it! I couldn't walk…I couldn't protect you…I couldn't…couldn't be a man! " His voice rose louder than he had wanted to. "And you don't need a half-man." His voice lowered again, as he walked slowly back over to Jordan and towered above her.

"I know one thing, Woody Hoyt."

"What's that?"

"You're more of a real man than most whole, healthy men I know."

He sucked in a breath. "Yeah…but how long would you say that when I couldn't…couldn't …satisfy you? Who would you turn to, Jordan? You're a woman…what would you do…find someone else and sneak around or end up resenting me for the rest of your life?"

She was nearly speechless at meaning of his words and the tone of his voice. Yes, intimacy is important in a relationship…but there were all different kinds and all different levels of it. Didn't he know that? "I wouldn't…do either…Woody…you know me…once I've made up my mind…I don't change it easily. I love you…."

"So you say…but for how long? Now that I'm crippled, you're suddenly willing to commit. That doesn't make a lot of sense from where I stand, Jordan."

She took a long look into his blue eyes…before she opened her office door to let him out of her heart and out of her life…"I have learned one thing, Woody…It's a precious thing to be loved…and be loved in return. It doesn't happen often, at least unconditionally, in a lifetime. You have to treasure it…nurture it….and protect it when it does."

* * *

She saw him rarely after that encounter. Woody made sure of it. He would hide in interrogation or behind his desk…or allow another detective to work with on any homicide scene they might find themselves together on.

And now, she was glad for his absence. He had pushed her away for the last time. She refused to be hurt by him any longer. She was taking Garret's advice. When opportunity knocked, she allowed him to take her out to dinner.

She began to date other men.

A fact that Woody became painfully aware of as he saw Jordan and Eddie Winslow having an intimate dinner at a restaurant. He knew it wasn't police business that brought the two of them together, because Jordan was wearing that red dress. The confusion that filled his mind startled him…he had told her to move on…but yet didn't want her telling another man what she had told him…_Don't leave me…please don't leave me…I love you_.

And if Jordan noticed his discomfort, she never let on. As a matter of fact, she was pretty much ignoring him in every way. She was glad that his legs were getting better…that his dependence even on the cane was growing less and less. But she was through pining after him. If Woody wanted her, he'd have to tell her…he'd have to make the first move.

Meanwhile, she was trying to learn how not to let his eyes and smile still have the same effect on her. How not to let the sound of his voice send a jump along her spine. And how to keep the hurt that he had inflicted on her from still reflecting out of her eyes.

She wasn't too successful on the last one…Woody still would see occasional flashes of pain in her face when she thought he didn't notice…or wasn't there…or not paying attention when the both managed to be in the same room. And when he did have to deal with her, she was quiet and nearly monosyllabic.

He knew the pain he had caused her ran deeply on both sides. Seeing her with other men brought the vision of what they could have had sharply back into focus. The feelings in his lower half were returning more and more each day…except for a slight limp, he was functioning normally. Should he let her know and see where the chips then fell? Or should he assume that she had now moved on, too?

It would take an ill-fitting pair of shoes to make him understand exactly what harm he had done…and what it would take to regain her affection again.


	6. Don't Leave Me

**Chapter Six**

**Don't Leave Me**

And so life went on. At the morgue and at the Boston PD. Woody continued to regain his health and Jordan continued to try to live her life knowing that Woody no longer wanted to be a part of it.

Working together was only tolerable. While both put on a professional front, when they looked into each other's eyes, everything was clearly readable – regret, frustration, and anger. It was in those moments that both of them knew that neither one had moved on, they were just going through the motions.

But Jordan was holding firm in her stance that it would have to be Woody that made the next move. She had laid her heart and everything else on the line…she loved him and her feelings had not changed.

And as for Woody, he still wasn't so sure that ending the dance they had been doing once and for all wasn't the wisest thing. Sure, they both may be miserable now, but when the right person entered their lives, he was sure they would both be grateful for his mature decision.

Funny how things don't always work out as you planned.

For Woody it began as a typical day. There was a body found just inside the city limits of Boston. He had called for an ME. He was told Jordan was on the way, but since it was early morning, she would be coming from her apartment, not the morgue, so be on the look out for her El Camino, not an official morgue vehicle.

He waited.

No Jordan.

He tried her Nextel…no luck. Of course, she had been known to forget it.

Impatiently, he radioed Garret again to verify that she was on the way. "She answered her page," Garret told him. "Said she would be on her way in fifteen minutes."

Woody was silent for a minute. "You don't think she wouldn't respond to one of my calls?"

"I didn't tell her who the detective-in-charge was…she had no idea."

Woody hesitated a while longer, then radioed back in for another ME. Whatever Jordan's problem was, he couldn't wait on her any longer. He just knew she better have a damn good excuse. He was getting in his car, planning on going back to the precinct to take care of the paperwork on this John Doe when his cell phone rang. Seeing it was the morgue number, he assumed it was her, and was fully expecting to take his irritation out on her one more time.

"This is Hoyt," he said.

"Woody…it's Garret. We know why Jordan didn't answer your calls. She was in a car wreck at the corner of Commerce and Peace. They're going to have to cut her out of her truck… seems her brakes gave out."

Woody tried to swallow the panic he could feel rising in his throat. "How bad is it?'

There was quiet on the other end for a second. "Bad," Garret whispered.

* * *

Now he began to have an inkling of how Jordan felt waiting for him to come out of all those surgeries. Time crawled…if it went that fast.

He had made it to the hospital right behind the ambulance. As a matter of fact, after Garret called, he had thrown his blue light on top of his car and raced to the scene of the wreck.

Garret had been right. It was bad. She had tried to stop at a red light and hadn't been able to. Realizing her brakes were gone, she had successfully swerved to avoid oncoming traffic – she hit no other cars – but had plowed hers head on into a tree. Her vehicle had hit with such force that nearly every glass in her truck shattered…her El Camino was far to old be equipped with air bags…She was wedged between the steering column and her seat.

He was there when they cut her out…when they had felt for a pulse and found it weak and fluttering. He was there when they used the defibulator.

And it was at scene of the wreck he faced his feelings for her all over and up close again. She had been the reason he had stayed in Boston for so long…hell, she had been the reason he stayed in police work long after he had begun to be just a little jaded and bitter about everything.

And without her, he didn't know what he would do.

So it was here in the waiting area of the emergency room that he paced…surrounded by the people that loved Jordan and weren't quite sure what to do with him. Everyone at the morgue was aware of Jordan's feeling for him…and also knew that he had put her out of his life. If looks could kill, Nigel would be guilty of murder…as would Bug and even Lily. Garret seemed a little more understanding, but not much. He had given Woody a sympathetic look when the chief ME was called over the Jordan's attending surgeon. They all watched as the two doctors talked a minute…then Garret came back over to where the small knot of people stood.

"Head trauma…they don't know what extent yet. She's not stable enough to run many tests. She's in a coma and on a ventilator. The first 78-hours are critical. Then we will be able to see just how bad it is," was the news the chief ME related to them.

"Has anyone been able to get in touch with Max?" Nigel asked.

"No one knows where he is," Garret replied.

"We can try to find him, if you think that would be what Jordan wants," Bug said.

"It may not be a bad idea," Garret continued, "if anything happens, he would want to know."

_If anything happens…you mean if she dies_. The thought hit Woody hard. "Can I see her?" he asked quietly. All four of the morgue employees looked at him as if he had lost his mind. "Please?"

"I'll see what I can do," Garret replied. "But I can't promise anything."

But it wasn't long until he was ushered into a small room…filled with more medical equipment than he had ever seen. And all of it was hooked up to her. A tube ran down her throat, easing the burden of breathing from her body to a machine that hissed and pumped rhythmically.

In the center of if, looking smaller, frailer, and more vulnerable than Woody had ever seen her, was Jordan.

"Ten minutes," said the nurse.

"What?" Woody answered, stunned out of his silence.

"Ten minutes is all I can allow you an hour… and don't agitate her."

"Can she hear me when I talk to her?"

"Who knows? I'm not sure how deep her coma is," the nurse said, before exiting the room and closing the door behind her to give them a modicum of privacy.

"Oh, Jordan," Woody mumbled, standing close beside her bed, reaching out and gently taking one of her hands …a hand that he had seen work so competently in autopsy and trace…a hand that had held his gently on more than one occasion to comfort him…and now seemed so small and helpless in his bigger one. "What have I always told you about that old truck? It was going to get you killed…now look. You've gone and proven me right." The tears were coming now. "Why'd you have to go and do that?"

Still holding one of her hands in his, he used his other to gently smooth the hair back out of her face. "I only have ten minutes, Jo. That's all they'll give me an hour…and I imagine Garret will want the next turn. Look, honey…you've got to fight this thing hard…I know it's going to difficult and hurt like hell…but you've got to hang in there, okay? I don't know what I'd do without you…"

Woody let go of her hand to wipe the tears off his cheeks. The shoe was on the other foot now…and it hurt….now he had some idea of how she felt when he was in the hospital last year. He had to wait on her to regain consciousness and talk to him. This time he was waiting to hear what she would tell him.

He was waiting to see if she would live at all…

And it was as painful as hell. So this was how it felt.

Swallowing hard, he gently traced her cheek with his hand and whispered in her ear, "Don't leave me, Jordan. You can't leave me….please don't leave me…

"I love you."


	7. Cut Lines

**Chapter Seven**

**Cut Lines**

Her body began to shut down…one by one her systems began to waver.

Woody held his breath and mentally willed her to hold on during the critical, first 72-hours. "You've got to fight this, Jordan," he'd whisper over and over in her ear, during the 10 minutes per hour he would be allowed in her room. "Hang in there…fight it hard, sweetheart. You can't leave me… I love you."

Jordan barely struggled through the first critical stage. Woody and Garret took turns by her bedside after that, each talking to her…rubbing what part of her arm that wasn't covered with IV's and tubes. Trying to encourage her…to get some kind of response from her, but nothing. She did finally stabilize enough for the doctors to run tests, which showed that while she had no brain damage, there was some nerve damage…they just weren't too sure where it would show up. Woody winced at those words. He knew all too well himself how painful and difficult nerve damage was to overcome.

Yet, despite the fact that she had no brain damage, she remained comatose. The doctor couldn't explain why. "Has anything major….life changing … gone on in her life?" he asked Garret.

Thinking over the last couple of years…her near-rape, Max leaving, and now Woody…Garret had slowly nodded and tugged at his beard. "You might say that," he replied.

"Then… if it wasn't positive change, Jordan may not want to wake up…she may have lost the will to face what is challenging her….she may have really lost the will to live."

Garret shook his head. "That doesn't sound like the Jordan I know. She may not have always handled herself the right way, but she never backed down from a challenge."

The doctor shrugged. "Maybe what she's trying to forget now seems too impossible for her to overcome…maybe she's tired of trying. This could be her subconscious's way of dealing with it…just don't wake back up and you won't have to deal with it.

"I don't know," Garret sighed. He watched the doctor make a few more notes on Jordan's chart and exit her room. Then, pulling up a chair close to her, Garret sat down and began to talk to her. "Jordan…look…I know you've been through a lot…with your father…and with Woody…but it's not the end of it all. I need you to wake up … I need you Jordan. I need you in my life…and Woody does, too. He's told you so, but I think you've been too far gone to hear it. Please…wake up…" He gently squeezed her hand, hoping for some kind of response…but nothing. Dejectedly he sat back in the chair to wait for Woody to come in.

* * *

"How is she?" Woody asked, coming in several hours later, after he got off work.

"No change. The doctor thinks she's given up."

"Given up?"

"Yeah…there's no reason for her to wake up…so she doesn't want to."

"So she's not going to come out of the coma?" Woody began to feel his world drop out from under him.

"I think it's really up to her…and right now, she doesn't seem to have any desire or need to."

"Can she hear us when we talk to her?"

"They're not sure…"

Woody was mulling all of this over in his mind when his cell phone went off. "This is Hoyt," he said into the receiver. He prayed it wasn't the precinct calling him back into work.

"Woody…this is Bug. We went over Jordan's truck like you asked us to…to see about the brakes…and you need to know… her brakes didn't give out on their own. The pads were fine, but there was no brake fluid. So Nigel and I got to checking…to see if maybe she had a leak or something. Come to find out her brake lines have been cut."

"Cut? You're sure?"

"Positive. It's far too clean of a separation to be blamed on wear and tear. They were cut. Someone sliced her brake lines open."

Woody was silent for a moment, letting all the possibilities fly through his mind. Who could have done this to her? And why would anyone want to do this to Jordan? "Thanks, Bug," he finally said. "I'll be over in a minute."

"What was that about?" Garret asked, sensing that something else had gone wrong surrounding Jordan.

"It was Bug. Jordan's brakes didn't give out….they were cut. Someone cut her brake lines. Do you know anyone who was upset with her…or was mad enough at her to do this?'

Garret shook his head, alarmed at the implications. "No…not at all. She's really been kind of quiet lately…"

"Has she been seeing anyone she may have pissed off…by refusing them or anything?"

Again Garret shook his head. "I don't think so. She's been working too much to have much of a social life."

Woody sighed and grabbed the jacket he had discarded on a chair. "I've got to go back in…see if Nigel and Bug have lifted any prints…and if they have, see if we can get some hits on who they belong to. Can you stay with her a while longer?'

"Yeah...sure…go do what you have to, Woody."

Grim-faced, Woody headed out the door. This put a whole new light on the situation. Jordan didn't have an accident. Jordan was nearly murdered. Woody felt a new emotion rise in his chest….one of anger and revenge towards the would-be murderer….and one of possession towards Jordan.

How dare anyone try to take her away from him?

* * *

Hours later, Woody returned to Jordan's room. Nigel and Bug had been able to lift a print, but so far there had been no hits as far as establishing an identity of the perp. Wearily he pulled off his jacket and nodded to Garret, who was grinning at him. "What?" he asked. Garret nodded towards Jordan's bed. The ventilator was gone.

"She's better," he breathed, pulling up a chair and taking her hand.

"Yeah…she came to a few hours ago. They pulled out the vent tube and she's been kind of in an out of consciousness every since."

"Is she alright?"

"She's a little fuzzy on the time frame…she remembers getting the page to go to your homicide scene. She remembers beginning to drive over…and after that, nothing."

Woody nodded. "Her brake lines were definitely cut."

Garret raised his eyebrows. "Any idea who?"

"We have a couple of prints…no ID yet." Woody turned his attention to Jordan, who was still pale-looking and frail.

Garret noticed the detective's mood change…from weariness to anticipation. Gathering his things, he said. "I'm going to cut out now. Call me if there's any change, okay?"

Woody nodded again, focused solely on her. Garret left and quietly shut the door behind him. "Jordan…Jordan…" he whispered. "Please…wake up.."

Slowly her brown eyes flickered open. She glanced around the room, searching for Garret. Garret – the one person in her life who had always been there for her --

the one who had kicked her ass and hugged her hard when she needed it. He was there when she woke up, but wasn't now. Finally, her eyes settled on _his_ face…those blue eyes, that smile that was just beginning to turn up at the corners of his mouth and flash his dimples. Taking deep breath, she tried to focus as she asked, "What the hell are you doing here?


	8. An Imaginary Affair

**Chapter Eight**

Not exactly the response he was looking for.

Her curt statement made Woody aware that Jordan had not heard anything he had said to her during her coma. Unlike himself, who had heard every word Jordan had whispered to him in the hospital after the sniper shooting, she had heard nothing. She had no idea he had pleaded with her not to leave him… he needed her….she had no idea that he had confessed his love.

All she remembered about him was that he had put her out of his life. No wonder she was confused about why he was at her bedside. Deciding that a professional tact was probably best for the time being…the rest could be discussed later…he straightened up from the bed. "I'm here to ask you a few questions about the accident, Jordan."

"There's not a lot to tell. I got Garret's call…I was driving over to the homicide scene. There was a red light at Commerce and Peace. I pressed the brake pedal and nothing happened. I swerved to avoid traffic….and that's all I remember." She looked at him quizzically. "Why are you asking me the questions? You're not in traffic." She pulled her hand from his.

Woody set his lips in a straight line. "Because, Jordan…your brakes didn't give out on their own. They had a little help. The brake lines were cut."

Jordan drew in a deep breath. Her eyes wide with shock… "Cut? But who?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out. Is anyone particularly upset with you? Have you testified in any cases where you upset anyone really badly? Have you made any new enemies?"

Jordan shook her head and closed her eyes. "What? As opposed to my old ones? No…none…I've been busy lately with autopsies. I haven't testified in a case in months. I have no idea…"

"I don't think this was a random act, Jordan. Are you sure?"

Opening her eyes, she replied. "I'm sure…I don't know anyone who would try to kill me, Woody. Believe me, if I had any idea…you'd know."

Nodding, Woody flipped his notepad shut. "If you think of anything, will you let me know?"

"Yeah. Sure."

"Good." Woody picked up his jacket. "Will you be okay tonight by yourself?"

Jordan nodded. "Yeah…why wouldn't I be?"

Woody shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought that if you felt funny about staying by yourself…"

"You'd stay? No, Woody. I'm fine."

He turned and left…as soon as she got a little stronger, they needed to talk.

* * *

All signs were adding up to an angry brother.

Not Jordan's "phantom' brother, but the brother of a woman who was convinced that Jordan was having an affair with her husband.

The husband being a computer technician who serviced the vast array of computers and computerized equipment at the morgue. The man, Ted Whitmore, was at the morgue nearly all the time. His working hours were as hectic and numerous as Jordan's. His wife was convinced that not all of the hours Ted was spending at the morgue were work related…and after a little self-private-eye surveillance, she had realized that Jordan was at the morgue nearly the same time Ted was.

With their marriage falling apart, the woman was looking for someone to blame it on. Jordan seemed a likely suspect. She became the scapegoat. After complaining to her brother about the female ME trying to steal her husband, the brother became incensed enough to do something about it. After watching Jordan for a few days and realizing which vehicle was hers…he followed her home…and cut the brake lines.

It had taken Woody a few days to piece it all together…especially after the fingerprint's identification came back from Interpol, but he had finally figured it out. Armed with this information, he went back to question Jordan again. He hadn't been back in her hospital room since the night she regained consciousness. He had asked Garret how she was doing, and had been told she was better, except for her left arm.

Her left arm had the nerve damage the doctor had warned them about. She could move it, but not like she used to be able to. Garret said that Jordan described it as "feeling like it was asleep all the time." With therapy and exercise, she should regain most of the use of the arm…but it would take time…and patience. Woody's heart had gone out to her…therapy would help tremendously, but it would also be painful. He prayed she would allow him to be around to help.

As he made his way to her hospital room, Woody knew questioning Jordan wouldn't be easy…especially with this information. He didn't think she was having an affair…nothing in her demeanor would allude to it. And when he had questioned her co-workers, they had scoffed at the idea as well. "Jordan has been at the morgue a lot," Nigel told him, "but not for that. She has been working herself ragged this past year or so. First it was Slocum…then…," his voice trailed off. Woody could fill in the blanks. First it was Slocum, then it was him. She had worked to exonerate Garret, then she had worked to forget him…them…and what she thought they would never have.

Gingerly, he knocked on her door. After hearing her soft, "Come in," he pushed it open.

"Hi," he said, standing awkwardly in the doorway."

She smiled slightly at him. "Hi."

"Tired of the hospital yet?"

"Well, the food leaves a lot to be desired. If it wasn't for Nigel bringing me cheeseburgers and pizza, I would have died from starvation. And the evening apparel is not much better. I'm tired of my ass hanging out…"

At least she seemed better. That sounded like the old Jordan.

"Do you know when you'll get to go home?" he asked, still standing in the doorway.

"Not sure. They haven't said."

"Do you mind if I come in? I have some questions I need to ask you."

"About the accident?"

He nodded. She motioned him in and to a chair by her bed. "Jordan…have you ever heard of a man named Ted Whitmore?"

"Sure…he's our computer wizard. If something don't work, you call Ted. The man can fix anything."

Woody smiled. "Did you know he was married?"

"Yeah…I figured. He wears a wedding band."

_She's aware he's married. That makes any man hands-off to Jordan Cavanaugh_, he thought. "We know who cut your brake lines," he told her, and relayed the information about Ted, his wife, and his wife's brother to her.

Jordan listened opened-mouthed for a minute. "So supposedly, this all happened because I was having an affair with Ted?"

Woody nodded.

"That is ridiculous."

Woody sighed. "I realize that, but you know what I'm going to have to ask…Were you….are you having an affair with Ted?"

Jordan shook her head forcefully and answered emphatically, "No. No way. We talked, but that's all. He wore his _wedding band for Christ's sake_…I wouldn't…"

"His wife seems convinced."

"She's wrong."

"You two worked a lot of the same hours."

"So do Nigel and I, but no one is questioning that."

"Nigel's not married….and Nigel doesn't have a family member accused of cutting your brake lines."

"It didn't happen, Woody."

He regarded her a long minute. No, he didn't believe it did. But he knew Rene' Walcott would want to make sure his questioning was thorough, given their history. Rene' would not want any surprises in court…and she definitely didn't want Jordan handing over any motive that could have goaded the woman into action. "Are you sure?" he asked quietly one more time.

Her eyes narrowed for a second. "No. I did not have an affair with Ted. Why are you asking me so many times…is it for the Boston PD's benefit, or your own, Woody?'

"I need to be sure, Jordan."

"For yourself? So you can continue to think the worst of me? There was no affair. Period. Now go type your report and then…go to hell, Woody."

He stood and snapped his notepad shut. Towering above her, he gently took her hand, interlacing their fingers. He knew she was angry…and rightfully so. He never would think Jordan would get involved with a married man. It had been hard enough to get her involved with him…and he was unmarried. "I believe you, Jo…and contrary to your travel directions, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you get out of the hospital. And then we need to talk."

She stared dumbfounded at his retreating back as he closed the door behind him when he left.


	9. The Lady in Red

**Chapter Nine**

**The Lady in Red**

She went home to Garret's to recover. After two more weeks in the hospital, she could go home, but Garret was afraid to leave her by herself.

Woody had momentarily panicked when he came to the hospital to check on her…like he was doing every night now…and couldn't find her. A quick call to Garret's confirmed she was there and would be staying with him for a while. Her arm was still giving her problems and Garret wanted to make sure she was taken care of while she was recovering.

So Woody began visiting her at Garret's, coming over once a day to see her and make sure she was okay. She told him it wasn't necessary, but he insisted. "You were with me everyday when I was in the hospital in Boston. You helped me through therapy…staying with me even when I wasn't real nice to you. Now it's time for me to do the same."

He pushed her through therapy…encouraging her, wiping her tears when it got too painful, holding her when she was near collapse. "You can do this," he said. "If I can do it you can, too."

It was after one evening of therapy, when Garret was at work and they had worked on her exercises on their on, that Woody had pushed her particularly hard. "I can't do anymore," she said, finally setting down the weight she had been lifting. "I can't…not tonight," she shamefully admitted. She knew frustration was written all over her face.

"It's okay…you've done well…you'll do more next time…and even more the time after that."

She nodded and turned away. Being with him was both pain and pleasure. She enjoyed his company…but believed that once she was past this…and he felt he had repaid his debt to her…things would return to the way they were before…And she didn't want that. Her feelings hadn't changed.

"Are you all right?" he asked, coming around to her side and lifting her chin to look in her eyes.

"Yeah," she rubbed her arm ruefully. "I'll be a little sore tomorrow, but I really appreciate you helping me like this."

He gently traced his thumb over the fullness of her bottom lip. "It's no problem. None at all." Watching her eyes carefully, he slowly lowered his head…almost brushing her lips with his…when the back door opened and Garret walked in. Both of them jumped away like guilty teenagers who had been caught making out.

"Evening," he said, oblivious to his disruption. "How's it going?"

"Good. It's going good," Jordan said, turning away.

"Yeah. It is. Guess I'd better be going…" Woody finished.

He didn't have her alone again for two more weeks.

* * *

Jordan looked at herself critically in the mirror. She looked good…or as good as she could with a bum arm.

Woody was to be honored tonight by the governor for his bravery in dealing with the sniper. There was a banquet and a dance. Jordan was going. Not that Woody had particularly invited her, but she received an invitation defacto because of her work with the Boston PD.

So she had gone and bought a dress. A red dress, because she knew he loved her in red. And tonight she was pulling out all the stops to get his attention and keep it. Make him notice her the way he used to.

Make him want her again.

And this time, if he did, there would be no turning back for her. She would go to him…and stay.

Hopefully, the red dress would help. It was long and hugged her in all the right places, emphasizing her curves, playing homage to her femininity. It was low cut in the front and lower in the back. The bodice was beaded. Her hair was piled on top of her head and curly wisps hung down around her ears and neck. There was a pair of diamond studs in her ears and another diamond hung on a chain around her neck. A pair of stiletto heels finished her outfit.

Jordan sincerely hoped the dress, and her perfume, and her jewelry would catch his attention. She knew he wasn't bringing a date…he had told her so. Of course, he hadn't asked her to be his escort, either. Biting her lip, she turned around and left her apartment, making sure to lock the door behind her. In less than an hour, she'd know if she was successful.

* * *

"Are you ready?' Garret asked when he picked her up at the curb of her apartment building.

"Yeah…I guess."

"For everything?"

"I have no idea what will happen to night, Gar. I'm trying not to get my hopes up or expect anything."

Garret nodded. He was aware of Jordan's feelings and the way she had worried about the details of her dress tonight. However, he didn't know how she would react if Woody rejected her again…telling her once more it was time to move on. "What are you going to do if…" he asked, his voice trailing off.

"I don't know."

They arrived at the country club where the dinner was being held. Jordan caught sight of Woody at the front of the room, surrounded by fellow policemen and local dignitaries. In a black tux, he looked good enough to eat. She bit her lip again. Looking like that, he'd probably have a string of women waiting to be with him tonight. She looked down at her dress with hesitation. What was so special about her that would grab his attention again? She slipped to the side of the room and waited until the announcement for dinner to begin. She was afraid it was going to be a long night.

* * *

He saw her the minute she walked into the room. His emotional antennae had been up all evening waiting for her to arrive with Garret. He could feel her…was aware of her presence before he ever saw her.

And she was breathtaking in red. He tried to work his way over to her, but was unable to. He saw her slide to the side of the room to get a glass of champagne and chat with friends.

He shouldn't want her this way again. He should be content to be friends with her, given their track record. But that was impossible…to be with her and not want her? Woody finally caught her eye and she lifted her glass of champagne to him. He nodded in return. Once the award presentation was over, he'd dance with her.

And then they'd have that talk he'd promised her when she was in the hospital.


	10. Last Dance One More Chance

**Chapter Ten**

**Last Dance … One More Chance**

"Dance with me.'

She heard him whisper from behind her, his breath stirring the fine tendrils of her hair around her ear. Wordlessly she got up and put her hand in his outstretched one, letting him lead her to the dance floor. Woody swung her into his arms as the music started. Jordan let him pull her close, her face next to his. "How does it feel to be the man of the hour?" she asked, smiling at him.

Woody shrugged. "It's okay. But I'll be honest. It feels better being able to walk…and dancing with you again feels even better than that." He returned her smile with a dimpled grin. "So…how's the arm?"

Jordan looked at her left arm, resting a little awkwardly on his right one. "Better…still not quite one hundred percent, but it's getting better…thanks to the physical therapist and you."

"Maybe this would be easier on you." Woody let go of her right hand and moved both of his hands to her waist, gently encircling it and bringing her closer, making her put both of her arms around his neck. "How's that?"

She let him pull her even closer. "It's good, Woody. Real good." She sighed softly and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Hmmmm," was his reply. He was too busy smelling her scent…her perfume…relishing in the feel of her against him again, gently sliding his hands from her waist to right under her breasts and back down again. Jordan felt his lips on her neck…right where it met her shoulders. She sighed again, wishing that the music wouldn't stop…the evening wouldn't end.

But it did…at least the music stopped. And when it did, she raised her head to find them in a secluded corner, his hands staying around her waist. He noticed she made no effort to move out of his arms. "Are we hiding?" she asked, raising her head to smile at him.

"Sort of. I don't want anyone to nab you away from me."

"I'm not going anywhere," her eyes telling him that she meant far more out of that statement than just the simple fact she wasn't leaving him to go dance with someone else.

"Good…" He pulled her back into his arms for another dance when the music started again. And kept her there the rest of the evening, until the dancing was over with and he helped her with her coat, gently easing it over her left arm. "Thanks for the dances," he whispered in her ear.

"My pleasure," she replied, turning her face to his and finding him very near. He closed the distance and caught her lips for a brief, but sweet, kiss.

"No….the pleasure was all mine."

She caught her breath at the contact and hoped that he was serious, and not just making intimate small talk.

"Do you still run?" he asked suddenly.

Taken off guard at the quick change of subject, she could only nod.

"Are you planning to run tomorrow?"

"I can."

"Good. I'll meet you at the park…the last place we ran together, remember?"

She nodded as Garret showed up to take her home. A run? What brought that up?

* * *

He caught up with her the next morning at the same spot they had stopped to rest over a year before…when she had told him about her blind date and accused him of moving on with other women…and where he had felt a streak of jealousy over the fact that she was seeing another man.

"Good morning," he greeted her.

She grinned. "I thought that you were going to run with me…not meet me here and wimp out on half of the six miles."

He returned her grin with one of his own. "Sorry…my legs won't do six miles yet. Only a couple or so."

"Slacker."

He huffed and took off with her following close behind. He finally slowed down after about a mile. "God, so much has happened since we last ran together," he said when he came to a stop.

She nodded, still trying to catch her breath. "That's an understatement." She finally had a chance to ask him what she had been wanting to. "So…have you moved on, Woody?"

"Sort of…how about you?" He kept his eyes on the ground.

"No…not really. I've been too busy."

He raised his eyes to hers. "Do you still feel the same way you did when I was in the hospital?"

This time, she lowered her eyes…not sure exactly where the conversation was going or if she was going to like his response. "Yes. I do. I understand why you would doubt it…doubt me…why I said it. But I meant it. I…I still do."

Woody shook his head. "I did doubt it…and you. But seeing you lately…after you were in the hospital…helping you with your therapy the same way you helped me…made me change the way I was thinking…and the way I felt. I had forgotten how much I _like_ you…."

_Oh,_ _damn, _Jordan thought, _he's going to play the 'friends' card again._ Her heart couldn't take it. "Please, don't. Just don't tell me that you want to be just friends again. I can't handle that. If that's the way you feel about me…if friendship is truly all you want, I can't stay here. I can't stay in Boston." She turned her back to him.

"Why?"

"Because…because it's hard to move on when the person you love is right there in front of you all the time." Her voice trembled on the last word.

Then she felt his arms slip around her from behind, turning her into him. "Oh, Jordan…we'll always be friends…because that's what we were first.  
Friends. But if you're willing, I'd like to see if this time we can't be more than friends…given that both of our feelings are running pretty deep."

"You do?" She looked up at him, somewhat startled at his confession.

"Yeah…but this time…we do it my way, okay?" he replied, raising an eyebrow at her.

She nodded. "What does that mean?"

"It means we do take it slowly…one step at a time…no games….and that you have to trust me. Can you do that?" he asked, knowing trust didn't come easy for her.

She nodded again and leaned her head on his chest, answering with just one word, but putting her whole heart behind it. "Yes."


	11. The End of the Fall

**Chapter Eleven**

**The End of the Fall**

It happened so subtly at first, Jordan almost didn't realize it was happening at all. His hand resting on the small of her back at homicide scenes…brushing her hair off her shoulders…taking things out of her left arm because he knew it hurt her.

Then it hit her one day. Woody was doing more than taking things slowly…he was _courting_ her. At one time in her life, she would have considered this a corny, old-fashioned idea, totally unappealing to her.

Now it was the sweetest thing she had ever heard of.

After their first date, he sent her pink roses. After the second date, he had given her a chaste good night kiss at the door. They were taking baby steps back to each other…and Woody seemed in no hurry to rush anything…he wanted to make sure they were both comfortable with each other before moving on.

Until the day the bottom dropped out of the Boston sky. It rained. No, it poured. Hell, it was like monsoon season in Massachusetts. They had finished dinner and the nearest place to go to get out of the rain was Max's old house. "We can stay there until the rain lets up a little," Jordan told Woody. At that point in time, the water was standing in the roads and cars were in danger of hydroplaning.

They let themselves in and Jordan ran down the hall and returned with some towels…to dry off with. But instead of reaching for the towel, Woody reached for her … kissing her more impatiently this time than he ever had before…deepening the kiss as she parted her lips and wound her arms around his neck.

He deepened the kiss again and she moaned in response, shivers running up her spine. "You're cold," he said, reaching for the towel she had dropped when they began to kiss. She shook her head no. "It's not the cold…it's you."

He read the look in her eyes…and pulled her back in his arms, kissing her with a rising passion as he fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, all the time backing her towards the stairs. Her shirt came off there. His came off at the top of the landing. By the time Woody had gotten her into her old bedroom, he had pushed her skirt to the floor, and tumbled her onto the bed, her small frame resting on top of his. Woody stopped then, gently running his hands through her hair to frame her small face. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked her in a breathless whisper. "Because, after this, you know there's no turning back…there's no way I'm going to let you go…"

Jordan nodded, turning her head to press a kiss to one of the palms of his hand. "I know…and I'm not going anywhere."

Woody held her gaze for a moment, then pulled her in for another kiss before he reached for the hooks of her bra and undid them, sliding the scrap of lace off her. Rolling her beneath him, he kissed her lips once more before trailing down the side of her neck to the hollow between her breasts, to her naval. Finally he hooked his fingers in the elastic of her lacy underwear and slid them down, tossing them on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

She clung to him, meeting him kiss for kiss and touch for touch until she pushed his boxers down…then the frantic pace that he had set slowed as he made love to her for the first time.

When it was over, he gently smoothed the hair back out of her eyes, and looked deep into her whiskey-colored eyes. Tentatively, she smiled up at him…and he smiled back, his dimples clearly showing. "You're mine," he whispered. It wasn't a question.

"Definitely…"

He chuckled and snuggled her closer. "I guess we need to see if our wet clothes are reasonably dry enough to put back on and go home…."

"Not really. We can stay here tonight, if you want."

"You don't have to work tomorrow?"

"No… do you?"

"Yeah, but I don't have to go in until after lunch…."

"Good." Jordan reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "We have a lot of time to make up for, Detective."

She was right. Woody had to admit she was right…the years before he was shot…then the year or so they spent wondering if he would be normal again…her accident…finding their way back to each other…stumbling along the way. But at least that part was over. They had reached the end of that journey.

The best part lay ahead for them.


End file.
